The Fate of a Prince
by ProcrastinatingPalindrome
Summary: Italy couldn't understand why anyone would rather be feared than loved.


"I just wanted to ask a question about your book, signor."

The child sat perched on the edge of the chair, swinging his legs. Or possibly _her_ legs. The child seemed to be at that strange age when gender wasn't easily defined to the casual viewer, and Niccolo wasn't overly fond of small children in the first place.

"You don't look old enough to even know your letters, boy," Niccolo said, and waited for the child to look shocked or hurt. No such thing. 'Boy' it was, then. "And even if you can read, _Il Principe_ isn't a book for children." How had the boy gotten a hold of that thing anyway? Niccolo briefly entertained the notion that this round faced child had ties to the Medici, that perhaps this was a sign that his luck was finally turning around, but quickly dismissed it.

"Um, but I _can_ read! And I read _Il Principe_, I did!" The boy flipped the thin book open in his hands and started leafing through the pages, licking his upper lip thoughtfully. "Like, um...here! _'__A wise man ought always to follow the paths beaten by great men, and to imitate those who have been supreme, so that if his ability does not equal theirs, at least it will savor of it.'_I liked that part, signor." He paused and looked up at Niccolo with large brown eyes, waiting for the man to challenge his literacy a second time. When he didn't, the boy started hunting through the book again. "But that's not the part I want to talk to you about today. I want to know about....here, where it says, _'__one ought to be both feared and loved, but as it is difficult for the two to go together, it is much safer to be feared than loved.'_ I...I don't understand, Signor Machiavelli."

"Perhaps you would find it less confusing if you read the rest of the passage," Niccolo snapped, snatching the book out of the child's pudgy hands and reading aloud from where the boy left off. "..._'L__ove is held by a chain of obligation which, men being selfish, is broken whenever it serves their purpose; but fear is maintained by a dread of punishment which never fails.' _What is difficult to understand about that? It's all very straight forward, yes?"

"But signor, who would rather be feared than loved? That seems like such a sad way to live."

"Many men find there are things of greater value than being loved. Love does not have the power than fear does, and men who want those greater things will need the power that fear can give them."

The boy dropped his eyes to his lap.

"But surely all men want to be loved, signor. Even princes."

"Part of being a prince is to rise above petty personal desires, child. To be a prince is to be something larger than an ordinary man."

"I still don't understand," the boy said sadly. "But I don't think I would like to be a prince. It sounds too lonely."

"Just as well, I'm sure you would make a very poor prince," Niccolo grumbled, turning away from the boy to signal that the conversation was over. The child was at least able to recognize social cues and hopped down off his chair.

"Good bye, signor. It was nice talking to you!" the boy called as he left, closing the door to Niccolo's house quietly behind him.

"Sorry to make you wait, brother." Niccolo could hear the boy's voice faintly from outside. "We can go back home now."

"What took so long, dammit! I've been standing out here forever!" Another voice pipped up, a little more shrill than the other's.

"I'm sorry, Romano. And thank you for coming out here with me, it was a little scary to go alone. They were right about Signor Machiavelli; he isn't very friendly."

"W-well, don't think I'm always going to help you like this, stupid..."

Niccolo sighed as the voices finally faded away and returned to his desk, where his latest project was waiting for him. _Il Principe _had failed to earn Lorenzo de Medici's favor, but perhaps this new book would be more successful. With a little luck, Lorenzo would like Niccolo's next book enough to finally call him back from exile, and Niccolo would be back in Florence where he belonged. Niccolo picked up his pen, pushed the strange encounter with the little boy out of his mind and began to write.

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Italy woke before dawn to the sound of his growling stomach. He could hear the cracking of their camp fire and smell the breakfast Germany was cooking. Porridge, his nose told him. It wasn't the meal Italy would have picked, but he could hardly complain when Germany was being nice enough to make breakfast for them.

It was surprisingly dark and cool outside; Italy couldn't remember the last time he had woken up so early on his own. Germany sat on a log before the fire with his back toward their tent, bent over something. Italy crept over quietly so as not to disturb him, but Germany glanced back at him when a twig snapped under his foot.

"Guten Morgen, Italy. You're up early."

"Buon Giorno, Germany. Are you cooking porridge? I thought I smelled it when I woke up."

"You've got a good nose," Germany said with a small smile. "It's not quite done, though. A few more minutes, I think."

"A more few minutes...but I'm starving! I haven't eaten anything since dinner last night!"

"I'm sure you'll last," the blond said firmly, and turned back towards the fire, bent over something again.

"What are you doing, Germany?" Italy asked, leaning over Germany's shoulder.

"Reading," Germany answered, in that short, blunt way that really meant, 'I'm busy, leave me alone.' He leaned his chin against his fist and frowned thoughtfully at the little book that was balanced on his knees. Italy leaned a little closer, ignored the grunt of annoyance from Germany. The book was in German, not Italy's best language, but he could read it well enough to recognize a few familiar lines.

"Oh, it's _Il Principe_! You're reading _Il Principe_!"

"You've read it?" Germany asked in mild surprise.

"Of course," Italy said, plopping down on the log next to Germany. "Machiavelli was Italian, you know. I even met him once, when I was little. He wasn't very nice, though. Oh, but why are _you_ reading it, Germany?"

"My boss asked me to," Germany said quietly, and there was something strange in his voice. Something tense. "He said it might help me understand his political philosophy a little better."

"So...so your boss agrees with the ideas in here? About how to rule over people?"

"Some of them, at least. Herr Machiavelli makes a few good points here."

"What..." Italy suddenly found the words hard to get out. "What about the part where it says it's better to be feared than loved?"

"I...I haven't asked him about that, but I think he agrees with that. Fear has more power over men than love."

"And you? Does Germany believe that too? Would you rather be feared than loved?"

"You're asking two very different things, Italy. But..." he looked down thoughtfully at the book in his hands. "I believe it's true, yes. And to answer the second question, what I personally prefer is irrelevant. I will follow my boss, and if he thinks it's better that we be feared, then that is how it will be."

"You wouldn't mind it, then? If your people were afraid of you? If _everyone_ was afraid of you? That...that sounds like the saddest thing in the world to me!"

"There are greater things in the world than my personal desires." Germany's voice was sharp and strong, but he stared into the fire as he spoke, unable to look Italy in the eye. "And if love must be sacrificed for those things, then I _will_ choose to be feared rather than loved."

"But....but if everyone was afraid of _me_ then I wouldn't be able to eat big dinners with my friends, and no one would come over to my house to see my paintings, and the local girls wouldn't like me anymore, and-"

"I don't think," Germany said, raising his voice to cut off the rambling Italian, "that you need to worry about anyone being afraid of you. That should be the least of your worries, in fact."

"I-I just mean..._I_ wouldn't want to live that way, and I don't think Germany would be very happy like that either. You'd be so lonely!"

Germany didn't answer. He leaned forward to stir the porridge that was still bubbling quietly over the fire. He suddenly look much smaller and sadder than Italy could ever remember seeing him, and Italy couldn't help but throw an arm around the larger man's neck.

"But don't worry, Germany! Even if you get really scary, even if everyone in the world is afraid of you, I'll still be your friend."

Germany hesitated for a moment before reaching around to ruffle Italy's hair.

"That...that's good to know," he stammered awkwardly, and the honest relief in his voice did not go unnoticed.

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Historical Notes:

Niccolo Machiavelli was an Italian writer from Florence during the Renaissance who is sometimes known as the father of modern political theory. He was briefly in charge of Florence's civilian army, but during the Medici invasion lead by Pope Julius II in 1512, he was arrested and tortured on conspiracy charges and exiled to an estate outside of Florence.

He wrote _The Prince _( _Il Principe_ in Italian) while in exile specifically for Lorenzo de Medici. The idea was to write a political treatise that would help Lorenzo to be the most effective ruler possible, and that Lorenzo would be so pleased by this that he would allow Machiavelli to come back to Florence and have a powerful position among the Medicis. Well, it didn't work. Lorenzo didn't really like _The Prince_ very much. So Machiavelli wrote more books, but none of those got him back into Florence either. _The Prince_ wasn't even published until after his death, and only then did it start to really attract attention.

_The Prince_ is basically a guide for rulers, especially new ones (when it refers to a 'prince,' it really just means a ruler of some sort, not necessarily an actual prince.) It goes over how to get the support of the people, how to run the military, the different traits that a prince should possess (or at least appear to possess when people are watching) and so forth. One of the most famous parts of the book is chapter that deals with whether it's better to be feared or loved. _The Prince_ says that ideally one should be both feared _and_ loved, but since that's almost impossible, it's better to be feared (but one should be very careful to not become hated.)

_The Prince_ kind of gets a bad rap as being a how-to book for tyrants (it doesn't help that big names like Adolf Hitler and Josef Stalin followed some of the teaching of the book.) It also has a pretty negative view of humanity as a whole...but it's not all that inaccurate either. It also brings up many concepts that are central to modern politics (such as the importance of appearing as one thing and being something else.) Good or bad, it's one of the most controversial and significant books ever written.

Just a quick little thing, but I still spent time on it, so please leave a review.


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